


Reunion of Broken Parts

by sevenofspade



Category: Demon Knights
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:08:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenofspade/pseuds/sevenofspade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain is on the march again and the Team Formerly Known as Demon Knights has to stop him. Horsewoman just wishes they'd stop arguing long enough to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion of Broken Parts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/gifts).



> The title comes from [the literal meaning of 'Al Jabr'](http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=algebra&allowed_in_frame=0).
> 
> This fic ignores all canon events after the Demon Knights return to Al Wadi at the beginning of issue 22.
> 
> Much thanks are owed to [Silverr](http://archiveofourown.org/users/silverr/pseuds/silverr) for the beta and I hope you enjoy reading this.

It's been almost a thousand years since she last saw him, but Horsewoman still misses Al Jabr. The thing they don't tell you about immortality is: everyone you love dies and then you miss them forever, because that's you have all of eternity to miss them in.

So Horsewoman misses Al Jabr, sharply, fiercely, a little bit more every time she sees or hears mention of algebra. Sometimes it doesn't even take that much. Someone will say something and she'll think "Al Jabr would have loved that" and it's like she loses him all over again.

Today's grief wrapped around her heart is brought to her by Cain, marching on Europe, again.

Not that Al Jabr would have loved that, but Cain reminds her of him and how stupid she was when she was younger. How could she forget Al Jabr was mortal? He had aged away from her and she had foolishly thought that when she came back to him, he would be untouched by time.

Cain will not be stupid enough to go after Themyscira again. Hyppolita is a great strategist. She will have learned from her mistakes.

Instead, he is coming here, to England. England, its overcast days, its long winter nights and its nuclear launch codes. Cain does not need a world of machines, metal and wheels. Scared people huddled around a campfire are just as good prey. He does not want the world to worship him, only to fear him. Nuclear winter will serve his purpose well.

Horsewoman takes Jacek from what used to be Alba Sarum to the city built on the ruins of the city built on the ruins of Camelot, to meet Xanadu and Jason Blood.

She has not seen Jason for many years, but she saw Xanadu just last decade.

"Cain has come again," she tells them, perhaps unnecessarily. Xanadu already knows, so Jason must, too.

"Our bags are already packed," Jason says and bags, plural, really? "Etrigan will be joining us, should we need him."

She'd known Etrigan and Jason had worked out an agreement, but it still surprises her to hear him refer so casually to something he once hated so much. They must have bonded over their mutual hatred of Merlin.

Ystin finds them soon after.

"Exoristos is warning the Amazons," he tells them over a pint in that very same inn in Little Spring, rebuild identically down to the watery ale. "She'll be back in two days." She must have just texted him, because he got that sickeningly sweet smile when checking his txts that he always does in her presence.

Two days later, they're enjoying a quiet moment, just the five of them, when Vandal Savage decides to show up and ruin it. It's Vandal Savage, it shouldn't surprise her this much.

Vandal pulls up a chair and joins their gathering. "Demon Knights versus Cain: Round 2!"

Jason has that look on his face that he always has when Vandal's in the room with him, which as rarely as he can manage it. It's his 'I really want to stab you' face. Horsewoman thinks it's a good look on him.

They haven't reunited what's left of the Demon Knights in centuries - not since Al Jabr.

"No," Horsewoman says. "We're not the Demon Knights, not anymore. Not without Al Jabr."

Silence greets her words.

Ystin raises a toast, then. "To Al Jabr, may whatever God he believed in find him worthy."

"To Al Jabr!" They all raise their glass, even Savage.

“What do we call ourselves, then ? The Demon Knights Minus That One Saracen Fellow?” That’s Vandal, putting his great big boots down his throat. Metaphorically, unfortunately.

"We are not calling our themselves Merlin's Stormwatch," Xanadu says, preempting Ystin's suggestion.

Savage downs Jason's beer, because antagonising Jason will apparently never not be funny to him. "Al Jabr told me not to sign anything, so like fuck I'm working for Merlin."

Jason stabs Vandal in the guts under the table, because that will never not be funny to Jason. "Merlin is dead."

No one asks how he knows this. It's enough to know that he does. Jason would not say these words if they weren't true.

"No matter," Horsewoman says. "What we call ourselves is irrelevant to the matter at hand.” She nows how hypocritical it makes her sound, but so long as they remember that not all the Demon Knights are around this table, she truly does not care. “How do we stop Cain?"

They discuss the matter and, because they are them, soon they are arguing the matter. At the other patrons' looks, Horsewoman holds out a LARP brochure. The looks still come, but this time they come with eyerolls.

"Themyscira will not help us," Exoristos says. "This is a mortal matter, apparently. "

This causes more arguments.

"Enough!" Ystin shouts. "We don't have time for this. Horsewoman, Xanadu, how long until Cain gets here?"

"Three days," Horsewoman says. From what the horses have told her of his speed and trajectory, this is the best estimate she and her GPS can give.

Xanadu shakes her head. "Two."

"Let's adjourn for the night." Ystin gets up. "I want everyone to have a decent plan tomorrow morning."

"Who died and made you the boss of me?" Vandal asks.

To which Ystin replies, "Merlin."

Jason chokes on his beer and off they go again. Horsewoman rolls her eyes. Of all the men in their group, Al Jabr was the only one who had any sense.

In fairness, Al Jabr was the only one of them who had any sense, man or woman or demon.

If she could, Horsewoman would get up now and leave. She had never envied anything of those with working legs, except the ability to simply walk away from any situation she wants no part in. Especially around this lot.

Sometimes they are the best, but more often they are simply the worst.

She rolls her eyes and catches Xanadu doing the same. Her phone vibrates with a text. ‘Urgh.’

‘Get me out of here before I stab someone,’ Horsewoman texts back. ‘And I don’t mean Vandal.’

"Jason!" Xanadu says.

Jason turns from where he's arguing with Vandal, who still has his dagger stuck in his gut. They aren't even arguing about anything relevant. "What?"

"Cive me a hand."

"Are you sure you need my help?"

"Yes, Jason, I am sure." Xanadu trades an exasperated look with Horsewoman. There is also fondness on Xanadu's part.

Jason and Xanadu carry Horsewoman upstairs. After they bid her goodnight, she hears Jason summon Etrigan. What can he possibly be doing?

No matter. What Etrigan, Xanadu and Jason get up to on their own time is their business.

~*~

Horsewoman dreams of Al Jabr, as she has so often over the centuries.

They are sitting in his workroom in Al Wadi, but he is as young as he was when they first met.

From the kitchens comes the smell of roast chickens. She can smell hazelnuts, too and honey and oranges, but she hadn't been able to smell those then. The pastries had been a surprise, the most delicious things she'd ever tasted, but only in her dreams does she smell them before they are placed in front of her.

The papers on Al Jabr's desk are always different, when she has this dream. She remembers what they said when this conversation really happened, but in her dreams, they always offer some small insight on her situation. Whether it is Al Jabr or her unconscious mind trying to help her, she has never been able to tell for sure. She knows which option she prefers. Her unconscious mind is not this pleasant, not this helpful.

"Cain has come again," she tells Al Jabr. "He’ll cover the Earth with eternal night and nuclear winter, if no one does anything. "

"I know," he says.

Of course he does.

"You know how they are. They will argue until it is no longer an option and then argue so more. I wish you could help." She gathers the papers. They are mathematical proofs of some sort, but she lacks the knowledge to understand them.

"Although may recall, I was not the last to argue, but perhaps I can help you still, " Al Jabr says. He takes the papers from her and starts arranging them in seven different piles.

Horsewoman picks up a compass from his desk. It is heavy in her hand. It always is. "I remember. Science and magic and which is more powerful."

"Science is better than magic," he says, proving her point.

"It certainly seems more popular these days," she concedes. The compass rises from her hand to fly to Al Jabr's. She wonders if he realises the irony. Probably.

"Horsewoman. Listen to me. This is important." He is aging before her eyes, until he is as he was the last time she saw him. No, not even the last time she saw him alive, when this conversation happened the first time, the last time she saw him at all, at his wake. But then, that wasn't really Al Jabr she saw then, was it?

"Have I ever not listened to you?" Her archery gloves are back on her hands, the feel of them familiar, for all that they burned in the Great Fire of London.

He doesn't answer. She deserves that, she decides.

"Tell me," she says. She closes her hands, her bow and arrow appear inside them and just like that, they are in Avalon. She is in Avalon and she is a child, empty-handed and on her feet. They are in Themyscira and she is herself again, legs sprawled on the beach, Cain walking towards them and Al Jabr holding her up. He is as she last saw him alive and still holding his papers.

"It is better if I show you," he says. He hands her the papers.

The first line reads: 'X^n + Y^n = Z^n' and that's as far as Horsewoman gets, because Cain is kneeling in front of her, smile full of teeth, white and sharp like icicles.

This never happened.

Al Jabr vanishes behind her and she collapses into the sand. "Al Jabr!"

She isn't sure who she's most afraid for. Al Jabr never disappeared from her dreams before, but if you die in your dreams you die, no matter how immortal that you are in the waking world. She doesn't want to find out if that applies to enthrallment.

She props herself up on her elbows. She lets the papers go and tries crawling back.

The papers hit Cain in the face. When did the wind change?

She would laugh, were it not for the fear gripping her throat tight. Then laughter fades away into wonder.

Cain is reading the papers, a look of intense concentration on his face. He sits down, cross-legged. He starts drawing figures and equations in the sand outside the walls of Themyscira, all thoughts of invasion apparently forgotten.

Soon, he is drawing patterns in the dirt of Avalon before burning away into its blazing sunlight. He has not looked away from his task. Horsewoman, her feet securely planted on the ground, watches the ash fade away.

This didn’t happen, as well.

Horsewoman is back in her chair in Al Jabr's study and he is handing her the compass.

"Don't do that!" She lashes out at him, striking it from his hand, anger coiled tight in her chest like one of his spring-powered devices.

He kneels to pick it up and lays it back on the table. "You're safe now. You were always safe, Sarah. Cain was never here."

Gods, she could hit him. Instead, she tugs at his arm. "Al Jabr. It was not me I was worried about. I knew this wasn't real when I was in Avalon."

Al Jabr steps closer and she hugs him.

"I can't lose you again. Don't disappear." Then, hoping the cloth muffles her words, "I know which dreams are true. I know which dreams are not. They are the ones where I can walk."

Nothing between the two Avalons was real, except the fear.

"I am sorry," he tells her. "I did not think you cared so much."

"I have been dreaming of you for a thousand years because I do not care. Of course. That makes perfect sense. It is good you are here to remind me how logic works." How can someone so smart be so stupid?

She lets him go and he sits in the other chair. She could touch him if she wanted, remind herself that he is here.

"You have always needed my help when you came here," he says.

"No," she says. "I may have taken your help, but I was here because I wanted to see you."

"And yet, you never want to see me when you need no help." Were he anyone else, she would think he sounded angry.

"And you never visit when I do not." She is not the only one who decides what dreams she has.

She picks up the compass again. It is lighter and pointing due north.

"What did you want to show me?" She has never been good with feelings. She will sometimes go to extraordinary lengths to avoid them.

"Have you ever been to Eastern Europe?" Al Jabr's question is unexpected.

"No." They talk of vampires too much for her not to be reminded of Cain and through him, Al Jabr. Vampires are popular everywhere these days, maybe she should visit, anyway.

"Nor I. But when Cain first came to Europe, he came through there. That was before my time, or yours. When you came to Al Wadi, I made contacts with," his mouth twists a little, "acquaintances there. They did have much to say, except rumours."

"Rumours are groundless," Horsewoman says.

"When rumours cross the centuries, they turn to legend and legends always have a part of truth in them. 'Little Spring has a protector'. 'Camelot will rise again'. So I looked at the legends of this area of the world. It was foolish of me not to tell you what I found then."

"Tell me what you found."

"Vampirism comes with more than one kind of compulsion. With the lust for blood, it carries within itself the need to solve any mathematical problem set before its host. No one knows why." Al Jabr has a faint smile on his face. He realises how absurd what's he's saying is.

"Are you telling me," Horsewoman says, "are you telling me we could have defeated Cain by asking him how many grains of sand where on that beach?"

Al Jabr's smile is no longer faint. "Yes."

"You are the worst," she tells him, "the absolute worst! You better not be having me on."

She punches him in the arm.

He rubs his arm. She didn't punch him that hard.

"There are no beaches between where I am and where Cain is," she says, sobering up.

"Do you think Cain would object to winning a million dollars?"

"I'm not following you." Al Jabr's mind moves by leaps and bounds and he forgets, sometimes, that some of them are stuck to the ground.

"There is a particular set of algebraic problems that have puzzled mathematicians for centuries." Al Jabr points at the seven piles of paper on the desk. "There is an institute that offers a million dollars to whoever solves one."

Horsewoman looks at the piles. Yes. She can remember enough to know this is in the morning. "Centuries? Each?"

"Yes." Al Jabr looks like he's enjoying a private joke.

"Have any of them been solved?"

"Not that I know of." He's disappointed, she can tell from the way his shoulders hunch in. "But I have not checked in years."

Sun starts filtering through the walls. She puts her hand on his arm. "Thank you."

She wakes up.

She does not go to breakfast. Having taken one look at the argument in progress, she has no patience for her teammates.

Instead, she finds an internet café and prints out the Millenium Prize problems. She prints out Fermat's last theorem, as well. Yes, it's been solved, but so has Pointcaré's conjecture and she doubts Cain is up-to-date on the mathematics of semistable elliptic curves.

She meets Cain in a field outside London.

"Ah," Cain says, "the hero of the hour."

"Fuck you," she says, because, seriously, fuck this guy.

"Is that an offer?"

She is so over Cain's suave bullshit. She holds out the papers to him. "Here, for you."

"A gift? How lovely." His voice trails out as soon as he looks at the top sheet of paper. "How dare you."

"I could ask the same thing," Horsewoman says. It's over. She's won and they both know it.

"This won't kill me, you know." Cain rummages through his pockets. "Do you at least have a pen?"

"I don't need you dead," she tells him. She holds out a mechanical pencil. There's no need to be cruel.

Cain clicks the mechanical pencil uselessly. Did she forget to put leads in? Her bad, really.

On her way back to Little Spring, Ystin says, "That was clever."

"It was Al Jabr's idea, not mine." Horsewoman wishes Vanguard a good day out of Ystin's hearing.

"I miss him," Ystin says. "I think we all do."

"What, even Vandal?"

"Alright," Ystin smiles, "maybe not Vandal. But Xanadu and Jason certainly do and Exoristos has always been fond of him."

"And Etrigan was fascinated," Horsewoman says, "I remember." She shakes her head. "Vandal must miss him as well. He would not remember his advice otherwise."

They walk in silence for a while, hooves clattering on the highway. Cars stop to watch them go.

"You were right," Ystin says when they leave the highway. "We're not the Demon Knights without him."

Horsewoman does not answer. There is nothing to say and the sky is blue as Vanguard takes flight.

That night, she dreams of Al Jabr's study in Al Wadi again.

"Hold on to your pants," she tells him. "I'm going to validate Pointcaré's Conjecture."

"I'm not wearing pants," Al Jabr says.

He's wearing a robe instead, but she still replies with, "Don't tell me those things."

"Alright," Al Jabr says and the study provides her with a whiteboard and a marker. "I don't like the way chalk sounds," he explains.

"It doesn't have to sound that way," she says and launches into the explanation.

She flounders a few times, but he is always there to catch her when she does.

**Author's Note:**

> Vampires having to count rice/grains of sands/etc is [folklore](http://science.howstuffworks.com/science-vs-myth/strange-creatures/vampire3.htm). I've extended it to apply to all mathematical problems.
> 
> The [Millenium Prize Problems](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Millennium_Prize_Problems) are a set of seven mathematical problems, of which only one, the Poincaré conjecture, has been solved so far. [Fermat's Theorem](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fermat%27s_Last_Theorem) is not part of this set, but is nevertheless a famous math problem that remained unsolved for centuries.


End file.
